I'd tell people that I was going to Dinosaur Provincial Park, and they'd say, "Good for you. That's a really nice place."
Perhaps they should have said, "Prepare to tremble in fear at a majesty of nature you never knew to exist, for if the prairies were a monarch, the badlands would surely be its crown."
I'd say more, but a) my camping buddies were the ones that brought a camera, and b) they're all writers. So I'll let one of them send me something that I can repost here. (Hint, hint.)
But in the meantime, allow me to relate to you the story of the most ridiculous car chase I've ever experienced.
We had just finished setting up the tents, and we were waiting for the final carload of explorers to arrive. Being in the bottom of a canyon, cell reception was poor, so Joe volunteered to drive up to the main entrance to contact the others. We bid her farewell, but I notice something as she pulls away.
"What's that box on top of her trunk?", I ask.
"I think it's a lamp."
Well, that's no good. I jump in my car, figuring I can flag her down before it topples. The problem, though, is that I hadn't factored the campground into account. One single lane of gravel, naked two-year-olds cavorting in sprinklers on each side, and speed bumps every twenty metres slowed me down to a crawl. Joe's car was slightly slower, so I was at least able to catch up, so that I could watch the lamp jump and slide over each speed bump.
Finally, we hit asphalt, and begin the long drive up the hill. I flash my hazards and high beams, trying to get her attention. The road's still too narrow for me to pull up alongside her, though. The car starts to veer -- has she seen me? No, she's just swerving around a rattlesnake.
And so we continue, climbing slowly up the hill, the lamp slipping a little more with each passing moment. Finally, she reaches the top, and pulls over. I do the same, and quietly walk over and pick up the prize.
It's a sturdy plastic LED lamp. Not a sliver of glass, or any other breakable substance, anywhere to be found. Defeated, I give Joe the lamp, and turn around.
Now, I told you that story... so I could tell you this one.
On the way back to the site, a four-year-old girl was playing around on her bicycle. She ended up in a slight rut. Hardly even the depth of a fresh set of treads, but it was enough for the rear tire to spin freely, while the bike was held up on its training wheels.
There I waited, minutes seeming like hours, as she pedaled franticly to get out of the middle of the road.
And that, my friends, was the most ridiculous car chase of them all.